Part 56 (1/2)
His immediate pressing necessity struck like a pulse through all the chords of dismal conjecture. His heart flying about for comfort, dropped at Emilia's feet.
”Bella's right,” he said, reverting to the green page in his hand; ”we can't involve others in our sc.r.a.pe, whatever it may be.”
He ceased on the spot to be at war with himself, as he had been for many a day; by which he was taught to imagine that he had achieved a mental indifference to misfortune. This lightened his spirit considerably. ”So there's an end of that,” he emphasized, as the resolve took form to tell Lady Charlotte flatly that his father was ruined, and that the son, therefore, renounced his particular hope and aspiration.
”She will say, in the most matter-of-fact way in the world, 'Oh, very well, that quite alters the case,'” said Wilfrid aloud, with the smallest infusion of bitterness. Then he murmured, ”Poor old governor!”
and wondered whether Emilia would come to this place according to his desire. Love, that had lain crushed in him for the few recent days, sprang up and gave him the thought, ”She may be here now;” but, his eyes not being satiated instantly with a sight of her, the possibility of such happiness faded out.
”Blessed little woman!” he cried openly, ashamed to translate in tenderer terms the soft fresh blossom of love that his fancy conjured forth at the recollection of her. He pictured to himself hopefully, moreover, that she would be shy when they met. A contradictory vision of her eyes lifted hungry for his first words, or the pressure of his arm displeased him slightly. It occurred to him that they would be characterized as a singular couple. To combat this he drew around him all the mysteries of sentiment that had issued from her voice and her eyes. She had made Earth lovely to him and heaven human. She--what a grief for ever that her origin should be what it was! For this reason:--lovers must live like ordinary people outwardly; and say, ye Fates, how had she been educated to direct a gentlemen's household?
”I can't exist on potatoes,” he p.r.o.nounced humorously.
But when his thoughts began to dwell with fitting seriousness on the woman-of-the-world tone to be expected from Lady Charlotte, he folded the mental image of Emilia closely to his breast, and framed a misty idea of a little lighted cottage wherein she sat singing to herself while he was campaigning. ”Two or three fellows--Lumley and Fredericks--shall see her,” he thought. The rest of his brother officers were not even to know that he was married.
His yacht was lying in a strip of moonlight near Sir Twickenham's companion yawl. He gave one glance at it as at a history finished, and sent up his name to Lady Charlotte.
”Ah! you haven't brought the good old dame with you?” she said, rising to meet him. ”I thought it better not to see her to-night.”
He acquiesced, mentioning the lateness of the hour, and adding, ”You are alone?”
She stared, and let fall ”Certainly,” and then laughed. ”I had forgotten your regard for the proprieties. I have just sent my maid for Georgiana; she will sleep here. I preferred to come here, because those people at the hotel tire me; and, besides, I said I should sleep at the villa, and I never go back to people who don't expect me.”
Wilfrid looked about the room perplexed, and almost suspicious because of his unexplained perplexity. Her (as he deemed it--not much above the level of Mrs. Chump in that respect) aristocratic indifference to opinion and conventional social observances would have pleased him by daylight, but it fretted him now.
Lady Charlotte's maid came in to say that Miss Ford would join her. The maid was dismissed to her bed. ”There's nothing to do there,” said her mistress, as she was moving to the folding-doors. The window facing seaward was open. He went straight to it and closed it. Next, in an apparent distraction, he went to the folding-doors. He was about to press the handle, when Lady Charlotte's quiet remark, ”My bedroom,”
brought him back to his seat, crying pardon.
”Have you had news?” she inquired. ”You thought that a letter might be there. Bad, is it?”
”It is not good,” he replied, briefly.
”I am sorry.”
”That is--it tells me--” (Wilfrid disciplined his tongue) ”that I--we are--a lieutenant on half-pay may say that he is ruined, I suppose, when his other supplies are cut off!...”
”I can excuse him for thinking it,” said Lady Charlotte. She exhibited no sign of eagerness for his statement of facts.
Her outward composure and a hard animation of countenance (which, having ceased the talking within himself, he had now leisure to notice) humiliated him. The sting helped him to progress.
”I may try to doubt it as much as I please, to avoid seeing what must follow.... I may shut my eyes in the dark, but when the light stares me in the face...I give you my word that I have not been justified even in imagining such a catastrophe.”
”The preamble is awful,” said Lady Charlotte, rising from her rec.u.mbent posture.
”Pardon me; I have no right to intrude my feelings. I learn to-day, for the first time, that we are--are ruined.”
She did not lift her eyebrows, or look fixedly; but without any change at all, said, ”Is there no doubt about it?”
”None whatever.” This was given emphatically. Resentment at the perfect realization of her antic.i.p.ated worldly indifference lent him force.
”Ruined?” she said.